Thursday, June 11, 2015

Diary of a Granny

Diary of a Granny

Its sad truth that our children got busy in their life and don’t have time to think of their parents. I was not educated, neither my family customs let female child to step out of home and purse education. Moreover, I had a responsibility to look after the younger ones - four Sisters and one brother. My childhood was jam-packed by washing the dishes, clothes and taking care of my siblings. Yet, I loved every bit of it. . .

I was married at an early age of 18. My husband died when I was 24. After that, I raised my 2 sons single-handedly. I worked day and night at brick kilns and breaking stones, pilling up and carrying it to the top of the building. I get Rs.200 for a week. It was more than enough to cook variety of foods for my sons and gift them occasionally. I never got dress or things for myself. My owner’s wife, offer me the used ones. The Oxford English Dictionary contains 171,476 words, but I knew only 2 words. "My Children". Yet, I loved every bit of it. . .

One of my son is an Engineer now and another son is a Doctor. My first son, Babu got medical admission through merit, whereas my second son Shiva got less marks in his SSLC. Hence he got into a private college. Paying both their hotel fees, college fees, entertainment fees, project fees were as hard as breaking a stone with hammer. But my determination helped out in paying out those fees. I got debt from my relatives and from the owner whom I worked, with a hope that my sons would pay back when they earn. Now, both my son earns in lakhs, but said they are not responsible for the loans and debts I took. My elder son was even smarter and said, it was his hard work which made him to earn in lakhs and not my hard work or sacrifice or determination. It didn’t hurt me; since I had age and determination I thankfully worked after that to settle those debts. Yet, I loved every bit of it. . .

Before few years, my first son invited me to London to take care of his grandson. I roared in joy on hearing the news, but it broke when I overheard my son conversation with my daughter in law that maid and babysitter are costly in UK and I was appointed free of cost. I was content and did my maid duty flawlessly by cleaning the house, toilet and cooking and baby sitter duty by flooding my grandson with loads of love and affection. I was punished for showing too much of love on their son. As they felt, my love towards their son would cause a gap between them and developed an insecure feeling. I hid my love in front of them. When they reached a phase where they can handle further, I was sent out of the home. Later, I got a call from my second son and the story repeated. Yet, I loved every bit of it. . .

Previously when my son goes out on a business trip, I was invited to help them at house hold items. But now, my son feels I am an incumbrance. He feels that, I had become too weak and old and will not be able to do any work. I don’t want to burden my married son, so I came to this old-age home. It’s not painful. Its gives gratification to see both my sons busy in their life and I love every bit of it. .

My home age Chairman promised that there is an event planed tomorrow for World Elder Abuse Awareness Day (WEAAD) and the chief guest are the terrifying Dancer Allu Arjun's and magical Anushka Manchanda. Their dance and songs would makes us forgot our pain and I will love every bit of it…

You know, my grand son dance like Allu Arjun and my grand daughter sings like Anushka...Yes, I miss my grandson...Yes, I miss my granddaughter.. Yes,I miss my son..Yes, I miss my daughter in law.. Yes, I want to see them....

Oh, seems like the event arrangements are going on.. I will also join to help them.. Yet, I will love every bit of it....

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Touch of Mist Novel

Reena was all set to swallow the entire bottle of tranquilizers not to just drown her sorrows, but to END her life. She took out her high-end cell phone and scrolled down through her contacts in search of any possible guidance. As it was already 2:00 a.m. she was hesitant to seek out help at this late hour. She stood near the window and gaped at the electrified snaky road which seemed to beckon her towards heaven – the ultimate peace. But, on second thought, it seemed as hollow and dark like her life. She dragged herself inside her master bed-room, slid open the wardrobe door and took out a wooden framed photograph, which was taken about 20 years ago. It was a memorable sight of her family, where her dad was giving her a piggyback ride. She caressed the photo lightly and breathed a morose sigh. Crystal tears rolled down her eyes and fell onto the photo frame. She wiped off the droplet that had blurred out her dad’s picture and started wondering, who would wipe her dad’s tears away after her death. Still, her thoughts selfishly and stubbornly remained in favor of her decision to commit suicide.

About Me

Deepika Muthusamy is an enthusiastic, budding fiction writer who is an ‘outdoorsy’ person by nature. Her debut novel ‘Touch of Mist’, which is a fictional love-story, was published in October 2013. She is a Software Techie by profession and she began her career with the IBM. She is also the co-founder of Bangalore Hikers and loves to travel. She has been participating in the TCS 10K Bangalore run, Coimbatore Marathon and Pinkathon 10K run since 2012.